


Good Vibrations

by Bunnywest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Good Peter Hale, M/M, Outdoor Sex, References to Knotting, Sex and Circuitry, Stiles is a Robot, Versatile Peter Hale, Versatile Stiles Stilinski, gaining sentience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 23:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17693306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: “It’s the full moon next week, and I just wanted to ask if you’ll spend it with me. I thought we could go to the cabin the family has in the preserve, and stay a few days.”“How many days?”“Four, maybe five? A day or two before, and then a few days to recover. We’ll be playing hard.”Stiles perks up at that. “So what, you’ll be all wolfed out and insatiable?” Peter raises an eyebrow, as if to sayWhat do you think?and Stiles’s grin widens. “Awesome,” he breathes.“Shall I take that to mean you’re interested, darling?”





	Good Vibrations

**Author's Note:**

> A follow up to [MCSZ-LW](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17551271/chapters/41359517)
> 
> This is straight up filth and I'm not even sorry. What's more, I shamelessly stole the vibrating finger tech from Twisted_Mind's Cordyia story, [you'll be fine baby, i'm in control](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17526614/chapters/41292830) which is wonderful and you should go read it!

S 

“Stiles?” Peter nudges at the body sprawled next to him. “Don’t power down sweetheart, I need to talk to you.”

“Nnngh,” Stiles mumbles into the pillow.

Peter nudges him again, harder this time. “Come on, sweet boy. Look at me.”

Stiles rolls over with a groan, pouting adorably. Peter wants to kiss that grumpy expression off him, but he restrains himself for now. “You knotted me twice, and now you want to _talk?_ ”

Peter can’t help but smile smugly when he takes in exactly how ravaged Stiles looks. Peter’s never had a partner who matches him in strength and stamina before, and it’s been a revelation. Oh, but he loves this, loves that he doesn’t have to hold back, and that Stiles enjoys it just as much as he does. “It’s the full moon next week, and I just wanted to ask if you’ll spend it with me. I thought we could go to the cabin the family has in the preserve, and stay a few days.”

“How many days?”

“Four, maybe five? A day or two before, and then a few days to recover. We’ll be playing _hard._ ”

Stiles perks up at that. “So what, you’ll be all wolfed out and insatiable?” Peter raises an eyebrow, as if to say _What do you think?_ and Stiles’s grin widens. “Awesome,” he breathes.

“Shall I take that to mean you’re interested, darling?” 

Stiles nods. “Lemme check with Pops, but it should be good.”

“Of course. The Sheriff is your main priority, after all.” Peter pulls Stiles close and kisses him softly. Stiles kisses him back, deepening it into something hungrier, and presses his hips forwards so their bodies are flush. Peter can feel Stiles hardening against him. “I thought you were worn out?” he teases.

Stiles rolls them so he’s on top of Peter, caging him in. “I never said that.” He starts to kiss down Peter’s body, stopping when he gets to his chest, sucking one nipple into his mouth. Peter lets out a tiny gasp at the pinpoint of sensation that runs straight to his dick, and Stiles grins and does it again.

Peter doesn’t object – the best thing to do with Stiles, he’s discovered, is just let him have free reign. It’s much more fun that way.

 

* * *

 

 

“Five days, huh?” John takes in Stiles’ hopeful expression. “I can’t see a problem, kiddo. Just make sure you take the time to power down if you need to, okay?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Duh. I’ll get all your meals ready before I go, so you don’t eat takeout all week.” John opens his mouth to object, but Stiles continues, “Don’t even front with me, old man. I can smell those eleven secret herbs and spices as soon as I walk in the door.”

 _“Old man?_ Really?” John shoots Stiles a look, but secretly he’s thrilled at the feistiness Stiles is showing. The kid gets more human every day.

Stiles just shrugs. “Figure of speech? Anyway, I’ll stock the fridge and freezer, make sure the laundry’s done, and I’ll clean up before I go. You might have to do some dishes, that’s all,” he rambles, until John puts a hand up to stop him.

Stiles, I can take care of myself while you go away with your boyfriend. Go, have fun, and keep the details to yourself, okay?”  Stiles actually blushes, and it takes John a moment. “Stiles, are you embarrassed at me calling Peter your _boyfriend?”_  Stiles squirms, and his cheeks get redder. John grins wickedly. "Stiles has a _boyfriend,”_ he teases, because Old Man? That really deserves some kind of payback. “ _Stiles and Peter, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G”_ he singsongs, just to watch Stiles turn scarlet.

“Serve you right if I give you nothing but tofu for the week,” Stiles huffs out.

“I draw the line at tofu kid, and you know it. Now go call your _boyfriend_ , and tell him you’re going away with him.”

Stiles is still blushing as he scampers off to do just that, and John watches him go with a sigh. He wonders if Stiles understands just how gone on Peter he actually is, or if his circuitry hasn’t developed that far yet.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles, true to his word, fills the fridge and freezer with meals, and none of them are tofu.  John finds a lemon meringue pie tucked away in the back of the fridge, behind a salad. It’s enough for two decent serves, and there’s a note on top that simply says, _Thanks, Pops_ in Stiles’s godawful chicken scratch.  John smiles when he sees it, and contemplates the fact that a bot as advanced as Stiles still can’t manage decent handwriting.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter's tried to prepare Stiles, told him that he’d be far needier and much less restrained leading up to the full moon, but Stiles doesn’t seem fazed. In fact, he seems just as excited as Peter is.  As they pull up outside the cabin, Stiles takes in the trees surrounding them, and asks suddenly, “Can we have outside sex?”

Peter gives Stiles the side-eye, not sure if he’s mocking him, but Stiles’s faux-heartbeat is steady and it seems like he genuinely wants to know. “We could, if you wanted. Maybe we could make a game out of it.” Peter’s wolf surges to the fore excitedly at the thought of a chase, of _prey,_ and Peter doesn’t bother to hide the way his fangs peek out.

“Like, you’d stalk me? Chase me naked in the woods?” Stiles’s eyes are alight with excitement.

“Exactly. I’d give you a head start, of course.”

“Oh, it’s on.” Stiles opens the car door and looks for all the world like he’s about to bolt.

“Perhaps we could take the bags inside first?” Peter suggests drily.

 

* * *

 

 

Half an hour after an almost naked Stiles shot into the woods with a whoop, Peter’s forced to admit that maybe he’s miscalculated. He’d assumed Stiles would be noisy, would blunder through the woods like a fairy elephant, leaving traces of himself for Peter to follow. It was a mistake.

Stiles, it turns out, is all stealth and stillness – he doesn't make a sound, even silences his simulated heartbeat, the little fucker, and he doesn’t really have a scent to speak of. Peter can still track him through the tiny hum of his servers, but it’s a lot harder than he anticipated.

It makes it that much sweeter when Peter finally hears the sound of a breaking twig. He immediately heads towards the noise, and finds himself standing in a small clearing. Stiles isn’t anywhere to be seen, but Peter would swear he can sense him.

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, searching for some sign, anything, and that’s when a body drops down from the trees and sends Peter sprawling to the ground. Peter finds himself pinned under a cackling Stiles. “Should have looked up! Never saw me coming!” he crows, and Peter would be annoyed, except that Stiles is straddling him wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, flushed with victory and streaked with dirt, and Peter _wants_.

“You win, sweetheart. Shall I tell you what your prize is?” Peter rolls his hips as he speaks.

“Is the prize your dick? Because yes please, very much want that,” Stiles prattles, even as Peter carries him over to a fallen log, draping Stiles over it on his belly. Stiles wiggles his ass with a smirk, making Peter laugh.

Peter toys with the idea of teasing Stiles, rimming him till he’s begging in that pretty way of his, but he’s too impatient, driven by moon lust and a deep hunger that he hasn’t felt in a long, long time, so he settles for yanking Stiles’s boxers off and fingering him open, quietly grateful for Stiles’s self-lubricating feature. Stiles whimpers and writhes under him, panting out pleas for more that echo through the woods, making them that much sweeter to Peter’s ears.

Peter works another finger inside. “Did you really think you could get the jump on me and not pay the price, sweetheart?” he murmurs close to Stiles’ ear. “I’m going to fuck you _so_ _hard_. You ready?”  

Stiles nods wordlessly, his breath coming in short pants. The sight of Stiles laid out and waiting for him, right here in the middle of the preserve, lights a fire in Peter’s belly, and he can’t hold off any longer, doesn’t want to try. He drags his own boxers off and tosses them god knows where, then sinks into Stiles in one long, even stroke. He’s instantly overwhelmed by the feeling of hot flesh clutching at him, and Stiles whines high in his throat. Peter lets out a low growl in response. He starts to move, fast and merciless, gripping Stiles at the waist and holding him in place, the sound of their skin slapping together and Stiles moaning ringing out in the quiet.

Peter closes his eyes and lets himself get lost in the experience. All his senses are heightened right now, every drag of flesh against flesh like a thousand pinpoints of sensation, lighting up his nerve endings. He can hear his own breathing grow ragged as he drives in and out relentlessly, the pleasure building beneath his skin. It seems to last for hours. Stiles is muttering _fuck yes_ , and _please,_ and Peter can hear Stiles’s hand working his own cock, the wet sounds as he jerks himself off both filthy and arousing.

Peter leans forwards and starts mouthing at the skin of Stiles’s neck, nipping and suckling at the soft skin there, making Stiles shudder at the sensation and cry out. Peter does it again, knows exactly where Stiles is sensitive, and he’s rewarded with another breathy cry. His can feel his climax approaching, need rolling through his gut like an approaching stormcloud, and he speeds up his movements, chasing his release desperately.

Stiles is bracing himself against the log and rocking his body back into Peter’s thrusts eagerly. “Peter, I’m  gonna – “ he gasps out, before his whole body tenses as he comes with a shout, and the vice like grip of his muscles, hot and clenching and _so fucking good,_ drags  Peter over the edge with him.

It’s instant and unexpected and totally glorious. Peter pants against the back of Stiles’s neck as his hips stutter out his release, unable to do anything but ride it out. His whole body’s flooded with warmth as endorphins wash through him, and he lets out a long groan.

Beneath him, Stiles makes a similar noise, and for a long time the air’s filled with nothing but the sound of heavy breathing. Finally though, Stiles breaks the silence. “We should definitely do this again.”

Peter hums out his agreement.

 

* * *

 

 

They wander back to the cabin, both naked now, and Peter can’t resist pressing Stiles against the door and kissing him thoroughly before they’re even inside. The full moon’s still a day away, but Peter can feel the power thrumming beneath his skin, pulling at him, making every nerve sing and drawing his wolf to the surface. He has very little restraint right now, and he doesn’t plan on using any of it.

They make out against the door for a while, both hard and aching despite their earlier efforts, and Peter means to take this inside, he honestly does, but the porch swing is _right there,_ and it takes no time to settle them, and barely any effort to hoist Stiles up enough that Peter can slide him down onto his cock, giving a contented sigh as he does so.

He wraps a hand around Stiles’s dick and jerks him off in short, steady strokes, and Stiles makes the sweetest neediest sounds, thigh muscles working as he lifts himself up and down, working against the rhythmic sway of the swing. Stiles is still wet and open from before, and he lets out tiny grunts as Peter drives up into him.

Peter continues to stroke him expertly, and it’s not long before Stiles’s ass clenches around Peter’s length, and Stiles comes all over Peter’s hand with a soft moan. Sex is still fairly new to Stiles, and he always sounds _so_ _damned_ _pleased_ at the end result, Peter reflects, before his own climax hits him and sweeps all thoughts away. He comes with an intensity that he only ever feels when he’s in the grip of an approaching moon, and he throws his head back, letting out a satisfied groan.

Stiles grins at him, and nuzzles into his neck. “Jesus, you’re greedy. So, you’re going to be like this the whole time? All super strong and sexed up and stuff?”

“Yes.” Peter doesn’t feel the need to apologise. He’s a werewolf, and this is part of who he is. It’s also the first time in a long time that he’s been able to truly indulge his wild side.

Stiles hums. “So, I can stop holding back?”

Peter’s eyes snap open at that. “What?”

Stiles sees his expression and gives a tiny shrug. “What? I could totally take you in a fight, you know that, right? You’ve seen my programming.”

And Peter _has_ seen Stiles’s programming, all that personal protection and enhanced strength software, but somehow it never translated into thinking about what Stiles is actually capable of, or what else it could be used for. Suddenly, all sorts of possibilities swim though Peter’s mind. It strikes him with the force of a blunt object that Stiles is strong enough to take control, if Peter wanted that.

Peter, suddenly, desperately, wants that.

“Your heart’s racing. What is it?” Stiles has his head cocked to one side, listening intently.

Peter tilts Stiles’s head so he can look him in the eye. “It’s occurred to me, sweet boy, that you can give me something I only just realized I want.”

“Yeah? What is it you want?” There’s a gleam in Stiles’s eye that says he already suspects, but he wants Peter to say it out loud.

“I want you to hold me down and fuck me, sweetheart. I want you to show me what you were made to do, and I don’t want you to hold back.”

Stiles smiles, wide and predatory. “Yeah. I can do that.”

 

* * *

 

 

After a brief discussion, because Stiles needs to be sure Peter wants this, can’t and won’t violate his directive of _Do no harm_ , and because Peter’s never been into coercing his partners either, Stiles wastes no time in pinning Peter face down against the bed and holding him there while he opens him on his fingers. He uses plenty of lube and patience after Peter tells him it’s been a while, and Peter thinks he might go insane at the feeling of soft synthskin pushing inside him, gentle and persistent, stretching him slowly, gently, almost _too_ gently, till he gives a huff of impatience. “I won’t _break,_ Stiles,” he snaps out.

“Aw, baby’s getting impatient? If you want more, maybe you should ask nicely.” Stiles sounds amused as Peter squirms under him, unable to stay still. Peter’s bottomed before, but never like this. Stiles’s hand pressing into the small of his back is a steady, constant weight, solid and implacable, and Peter’s all too aware he couldn’t move away, even if he tried.

Not that he really wants to try. But he does wish Stiles would speed things up a little. His cock’s hard and leaking, trapped between his stomach and the sheets, and the only friction he can get is by grinding his hips down. It’s not quite enough, and it’s _maddening_. Stiles’s fingers move in and out, in and out, slow and smooth, in a kind of perfect torture. Just when Peter thinks he’ll cry if  Stiles doesn’t give him more, Stiles gives his hand a twist and his fingers skate over Peter’s prostate, drawing a whimper out of him. He’d be embarrassed by his neediness, except it feels so good. Stiles does it again and again, teasing him until Peter can’t help but beg. “Stiles, please, I need – “

Peter hears the tiniest clicking sound, and his ability to form words leaves him as the fingers pressed against his prostate start to _vibrate_ , a slow, pulsing rhythm that has him gasping and thrashing about like a newly landed fish. His back arches, his hips flex, and he bucks and rears wildly, not sure if he’s trying to get away from the vibrations or get more of them. Stiles laughs softly, and the vibrations kick up a notch. Peter lets out a keening sound as he squirms, definitely trying for more, but Stiles is holding him in place effortlessly, and Peter’s at his mercy.

The vibrations dial back down, pulsating softly, gentle and maddeningly perfect, and Peter lets himself relax, accepting that he’s only going to get what Stiles chooses to give him. There’s a tiny part of Peter’s brain that’s bristling with indignation- how _dare_ Stiles be able to take him apart so easily? – but most of his higher thought processes are drowned out by his increasing desperation as Stiles’s fingers hum and throb inside him. He’s overcome with the need to get Stiles’s dick inside him, _right now._

His scent, or maybe his heartbeat, must give him away, because suddenly the lovely vibrating fingers are being withdrawn, and before Peter even has a chance to mourn their loss, Stiles is pulling Peter’s hips up and settling behind him, and Peter can feel the tip of Stiles’s cock nudging at his ass. “Oh, yes,” he breathes, and his eyelids flutter closed as Stiles finally, finally, sinks into him.

It’s overwhelming. Peter feels a hint of a burn, but mainly it’s just pleasure and heat and the best kind of stretch as Stiles stuffs him full. Peter lets out a low growl, and he hears Stiles groan in response. “Fuck, Peter, so fucking good.” Peter’s too wrapped up in the way his cock and his ass are both throbbing to answer. He gets a hand under himself and starts to tug at his erection at the same time as Stiles pulls out and slams back in, his cock long and  thick enough that Peter feels every inch, filling him again and again till Peter’s a whining, panting wreck. He’s come twice already, so it’s a slower, sweeter, build this time, and Peter takes a moment to be thankful – he doesn't ever want this to end.

It’s the sweetest kind of torture, the way Stiles is fucking him slow and steady, as if he’s following some internal metronome. In, out. In, out. Peter gradually becomes aware that Stiles is talking. “Look at the big bad wolf, pinned down and taking it. Want me to fuck you till you come on my cock, and then keep going till you come again, till I’ve milked you dry?” His voice is raspy, breathless, and Peter’s dick pulses with want at the thought of it.

“Gods, yes.” The words spill out of his mouth unbidden.

Stiles rewards him by swiveling his hips, grinding into him slowly, carving a place out for himself. Peter whimpers at the extra stretch, and the hand on his dick speeds up. He’s so close, wants to come, _needs_ to come. Stiles must be able to sense it, because he leans forwards and lays the lightest of kisses across the nape of Peter’s neck, a spot that he knows is unbearably sensitive, and that tiny contact is enough to drag Peter’s orgasm from him in a shuddering gasp.

Peter can feel himself spilling across the sheets, the relief and pleasure breathtaking as he comes and comes and comes. His breath hitches, and his body goes lax. Stiles stills behind him, his breathing harsh like he’s holding himself back, and it takes Peter a moment to figure out that he’s waiting for permission to carry on.

_Do no harm._

“Keep going, baby,” he manages, and he doesn’t imagine the sigh of relief he hears as Stiles starts to fuck him again. Peter’s sensitive after his orgasm, but it’s in the good way. He collapses flat against the bed and Stiles follows, rolling his hips now, fucking into him deep and slow and so, so nice. Peter thinks hazily that if he could just stay here while Stiles holds him down and uses him, that would be perfect.

Stiles must think the same thing, because that’s exactly what he does.

 

* * *

 

 

The full moon’s a wild ride. The next two days are something of a blur, if Peter’s honest. He knows there’s a lot of sex, but it kind of all merges into a vague continuous memory of fucking and getting fucked, and kissing, and shower sex, and table sex, and yes, more outdoor sex. Peter finally catches Stiles the second time around.

Peter has a hazy recollection of shifting and running under the moon, bringing Stiles back a rabbit he caught for him, and Stiles laughing delightedly and rewarding him by wrapping those magic fingers of his around Peter’s dick.

They learn a lot.

Stiles learns that no matter how much he wants to, he simply can’t go longer than 36 hours without powering down. He starts to lose words, and Peter forces him to take a break and recharge.

Peter learns that 36 hours of almost continuous sex is a lot more exhausting than he imagined it would be. He also discovers that if he’s tired enough, his healing doesn’t kick in as fast as normal.  Apparently, it’s possible for a werewolf dick to suffer from chafing. When Stiles finally powers down, Peter passes out next to him, worn out and aching all over. They don’t move for 24 hours.

And they're both stunned to discover that Stiles has a previously unsuspected quirk in his programming. Peter's particularly thrilled.

He’s never taken a knot before.

He doesn’t regret it.

 

 

 

 


End file.
